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For flashy, sexy, Italian supercars, the early 1970s were the best of times. The best because the rulebook had been thrown out, and ultimate fantasy objects like the Lamborghini Countach, Lancia Stratos, De Tomaso Pantera, and Ferrari 365 GT4 BB started rolling out of smoky, strike-prone factories. The common thread among this lot, besides the sleek, wedgy shapes? They were all mid-engined. In the never-ending endeavor to bring as much racetrack tech and therefore provenance to roadgoing cars as possible, sticking the engine behind the driver’s head was the next step in the supercar game.

In 1961, Maserati introduced the world to its mid-engine Tipo 63. Ironically, the newer 63 proved less successful than the older, front-engine Tipo 61, aka the glorious Birdcage. But no matter, mid-engine cars were newer and more exciting, and being so was — for the express purpose of selling cars — better. Need more proof? Despite Enzo’s misgivings, Ferrari ditched the 250 GTO’s front-mounted engine design and began selling the mid-engine 330 LM to racing privateers in 1963. In the end, placing the engine behind the driver was the undeniable future of the supercar. Even though it had never raced a lap, Lamborghini figured the mid-engine thing out first and built the Miura in 1966. (Lotus fans will argue that the Europa got there first, but you can hardly call that a supercar.) Ferrari struck next with the V-6 Dino 206 GT, and word on the Modena street was that Ferrari was then hard at work on a mid-engine V-12 Miura competitor that would eventually become the 365 GT Berlinetta Boxer. To compete with its compatriots, Maserati also decided to do a mid-engine supercar. It built the Bora.

Maserati was and has always been different from the other big two Italian sports car makers. While fully competitive on the track — Juan Manuel Fangio, Dan Gurney, Stirling Moss, and Wilbur Shaw are just a few of the big names who found success at a trident’s helm — when it came to street cars, Maserati customers were not nearly as flashy as those prancing horse and raging bull types. Nor did they need to be, especially when it came to the Bora. As Han Solo quipped later that decade, “She’s got it where it counts.” Fitted with either a high-revving 4.7-liter V-8 or a torquier but smog-stifled 4.9-liter V-8, the Bora made big power for the time. Because of emissions laws, all the cars sold in America featured the latter engine (same as the Ghibli) that made 280 hp at 6000 rpm and a stout 339 lb-ft of torque at 4200 rpm. Later on, all Boras switched to a more potent version of the 4.9-liter V-8 and made 310 hp at 6000 rpm. The Bora’s tachometer seems to indicate a 5500-rpm redline–but look closely, and you’ll see it’s actually a yellow line. Redline, and peak power, is indeed at six grand. Yes, the Bora’s competitors of the day had more power, but that didn’t matter to Maserati. Its supercar was headed in a different direction, in terms of marketing and otherwise.

Back in 1973, Motor Trend’s Eric Dahlquist noted, “About halfway through the first curve we realized we could have taken it half again as fast, because the Bora sticks without the twitchiness of other mid-engine cars, most of which are a hair-raising handful to control at anything near their limits.” This car, then, Maserati’s first production vehicle with four-wheel independent suspension, was very obviously a supercar. But it was a different, calmer, and more refined breed of beast. Continued Dahlquist, “However, you will be less likely to find yourself in over your head in the Bora than in any other mid-engine car I’ve driven.”

It wasn’t just us. Our friends and rivals at Car and Driver had this to say: “After the test, we are convinced that the Bora is the only one of all the mid-engine missiles that is also a useful automobile.” In other words, the Bora is more than just a flame-spitting (or worse) supercar. It’s in fact a great Grand Tourer, a proper Gran Turismo in the truest sense of the term.

“They weren’t interested in chasing statistics; they weren’t interested in super light weight and pretending to be a race car. They wanted a car that served a higher level of customer than the young playboys who bought Lambos and Ferraris.” So says Doug Magnon, founder and president of the Riverside International Raceway Museum and a major Maserati-head. This red one happens to be his Bora. We stare at it as it’s being photographed. “The car raises your pulse, doesn’t it?” Doug asks rhetorically. But of course it does. Nothing else looks like it. The Bora was penned at Italdesign by none other than founder and master Giorgetto Giugiaro. In fact, it was one of his new firm’s first cars. Italdesign subsequently released a press release stating, “The brief called for a car that was clearly a Maserati, modern but devoid of the exotic look that unnecessary decorations can create, strikingly sporty but not inordinately aggressive. In short: innovative but not revolutionary.” From the stainless roof to the huge glass panels over the motor to the outright spaceship look, the Bora surely fit that description.

Citroen bought Maserati in 1968 largely to secure a steady supply of 2.7-liter V-6 engines for its own upcoming luxurious Grand Tourer, the SM (later enlarged to 3.0 liters). However, the road between France and Italy ran in both directions. Flush with new optimism (and francs), Maserati decided that, while its mid-engine racing heritage was all well and good, to truly separate its new supercar from the pack, it needed to use some tried and true French hydropneumatic technology. That’s right, as with every Citroen flagship since the 1955 DS, the Bora came complete with green spheres and LHM fluid (pre-1967 Citroens shipped with red LHS liquid, but that’s another story). However, the Bora’s suspension was quite conventional. Well, conventional by today’s standards, as the rear transaxle (shared with the contemporary Ford GT40 and de Tomaso Pantera) necessitated fully independent rear suspension–a first for a Maserati street car. Both ends got sporting but standard control arms and coil springs instead of the oleopneumatic telescoping dampers. The Bora’s hydraulic system powers the brakes, the pop-up headlights, the driver’s seat height and the pedal carriage. The seat position is fixed front to back, so the pedals slide to you and the steering wheel telescopes.

“The brakes are definitely the best part of the system,” says Doug. I knew they’d be pretty good, as every time I’ve been behind the wheel of a post-1955 Citroen, the thing that impresses me first are the brakes. Sad to say, the Bora has a standard brake pedal, as opposed to Citroen’s bizarre yet enticing mushroom button. In a 1974 test of the Bora’s sister, the Merak, we wrote, “The best part of this car, mechanically, is the braking system that’s also shared with the SM.” Road & Track agreed with Doug, me, and Motor Trend, noting in a 1973 road test that, “for once, we found a set of brakes fully matched to a high-performance car.” You know the chestnut about a car being only as good as its brakes? By that yardstick, the Bora is exceptional.

Most striking is the Bora’s design. All 524 Boras built came with stainless steel roofs and A-pillars. Early cars featured lightweight 15-inch Campagnolo wheels with polished stainless steel centers. While its design is unique, stare at the Bora long enough, and you begin to see other cars that followed it — most notably the BMW M1, also designed by Giugiaro. Keep peering, and you’ll see the DeLorean reveal itself, as well as bits of a Datsun 280ZX.

The Bora, of course, has my favorite, obligatory 1970s design cue: louvers. But it’s where the louvers were located, and more specifically what they were located on, that’s of real interest. Giugiaro decided to make the engine cover mostly glass, and rear hinge it for a backwards clamshell effect. Maserati then covered up the big (by Italian standards) V-8 and the four two-barrel Weber 42 DCNF carburetors with a shag-carpeted piece of aluminum. The effect was not only novel but futuristic. “If they’d just left the cover off so you could see the engine, they would have been 30 years ahead of their time,” notes Magnon. Indeed. But since the Bora’s design brief called for elegance over ostentation, a double-glazed piece of sound-deadening glass was installed between the driver and the motor, a world first. Today, it’s standard issue for supercars. Moreover, the engine sub-cradle was affixed with rubber mounts to further cut NVH. Beauty, power, innovation — the Bora had it all.

The mid-engine Maserati story doesn’t end here because, as Yoda said, “There is another.” Retailing for a cool $10,000 less than the near-$30,000 Bora was the very handsome Merak. Instead of a V-8, the cheaper mid-engine Maserati had but a V-6 (the same as in its international stablemate, the Citroen SM). But while it lost two cylinders, it gained two incredibly cramped seats. How? Since the V-6 is smaller than the V-8 (the Merak/SM V-6 measures less than 12 inches from front to back), Maserati engineers suddenly found themselves with a bunch of extra space. One option would have been to shorten the wheelbase. Instead, they left the unibody as was and created the world’s first mid-engine four-passenger vehicle. An odd duck, for sure, but a lovable one. As we wrote in the September 1974 Motor Trend story comparing the mid-engine V-6 Maserati with a Porsche 911S, “And on the other hand is the Merak, the product of a strange French-Italian alliance that somehow manages to combine the best features from these dissimilar worlds.”

Perhaps that’s the biggest difference between the Bora and the Merak. While both are French and Italian, the Bora successfully hides its French parentage. They might as well have called it the Luigi. The Merak, however, is a dual citizen, and proudly so. Just like Italian cars are known for their elegance, French cars are known for their zaniness. Aside from putting the kiddies right up against the firewall, the Merak had bolt-on flying buttresses. Not only was the Merak/SM engine short in length, it was also short in height, due to its non-standard 90-degree layout. The removable buttresses were probably made an engineering priority to ease maintenance of the complex engine (three timing chains!). Inside, more of the Frenchness continues, with the oval one-spoke steering wheel and matching gauges lifted directly from the SM, plus many of the other controls. All that said, the Merak actually uses fewer hydropneumatic goodies than big brother Bora. Only the brakes, clutch, and pop-up headlights require the green fluid.

Driving these two was not only an obvious car-guy treat, but also eye-opening. The Bora, despite popular misconception, certainly isn’t just a Merak with more power. The character of the two sports cars is remarkably different. The Merak is nimble and quick and feels comparatively very light. The Bora is more deliberate, much faster, and without question more solid. To keep it in the parlance of the era, the Merak is the Muhammad Ali-like floating butterfly to the Bora’s George Foreman-style knockout. One’s a straight-line powerhouse, while the other is happy to just dance. As Doug explains, “The Merak was known as the best-handling Maserati at the time of its introduction.” Based on my day with the duo, that very well still might be the case.

While I went into this Maserati fest at Robert Stone’s golden Acido Dorado house dreaming of the Bora, I left in love with the Merak. Especially this rare 1973 U.S. model, which, unlike all that followed, hasn’t been visually wrecked with fanged, funny-looking federal bumpers. What a fun, funky, and fabulous car. Not to take anything away from the Bora, which is a very exotic yet civilized supercar. But I just found the Merak much more fun from behind the wheel. Either way, I think it’s high time Maserati once again stuck a screaming, rev-monster of a motor behind its drivers’ heads. The near million-dollar Ferrari Enzo-derived MC12 was an interesting albeit off-limits reminder of Maserati’s mid-engine past. But that’s a show pony, not a road machine. It’s too out of character, too flashy, and too top-shelf — much more of a Lambo/Ferrari wannabe than a gentlemanly Grand Touring device. As the Bora and the Merak showed, the future of sporting tridents lies somewhere in the middle.

This article originally appeared in the Fall 2012 issue of Motor Trend Classic.

Ask The Man Who Owns Almost Every Maserati Ever Made

Doug Magnon is a commercial real estate developer, Maserati junkie, and the president of the Riverside International Automotive Museum. His collection includes one example of almost every Maserati ever made.

Why I Like It: “As a 1970s supercar, the Bora raises one’s pulse like that of its competition, namely the Lamborghini Miura and Ferrari Boxer. However, the Bora’s machismo is matched with gentlemanly manners befitting a Maserati Grand Tourer.” Why

It’s Collectible: Any mid-engine Italian supercar from this era is desirable, but Maserati made just over 500 Boras. The car’s French connection just adds to the allure.

Restoring/maintaining: Parts are as rare as the cars, and the parts that aren’t so rare handle Citroen hydraulic fluid.

Beware: The Bora contains much Citroen DNA, so you’re going to need to get on good terms with both a French and an Italian specialist.

Our Take

Then: “Most interesting of all, perhaps, especially to those who have had the opportunity to drive any of the exotic street ‘race cars,’ is that the Bora is totally tractable and civilized. Your mother could drive a Bora.” — John Lamm, Motor Trend, April 1974.

Now: A real Italian masterpiece, with a wonderful sprinkling of French flavor thrown in, the Bora is the rare mid-
engined Jekyll/Hyde. It’s shockingly comfortable, yet able to run with the big dogs of its day.

Ask The Man Who Owns One (Doug Magnon):

Why I Like It: “The Merak has the slick, sporty styling of the Bora supercar, but with lower horsepower and weight that puts it in a class of nimbleness of a Porsche or Alfa Romeo. The Merak owner has an advantage over a Ferrari 308 owner. I never have to answer the question, ‘Is this the “Magnum P.I.” car?'”

Why It’s Collectible: This is the only U.S.-spec 1973 Merak that ever existed. It was sent over for the U.S. importer to demo to dealers and delight potential customers before the car went on sale in 1974.

Restoring/Maintaining: Three times as many Meraks were produced as Boras, so finding parts is a big-time headache.

Beware: The V-6 shared with the Citroen SM deserves its own special circle of hell. Never forget: Adjusting the timing chains every 5000 miles is normal maintenance.

Our Take

Then: “But then there’s the Merak, a visual delight using almost the same Giugiaro-designed body as the Bora, yet the SM engine and instrumentation allows a price tag almost $10,000 shallower. As beautiful as it is, however, this car is an enigma.” John Fuchs, Motor Trend, 1974.

Now: Time is a funny thing. Because what was once a parts bin oddball birthed from two near-moribund 1970s manufacturers is today one of the most delightful sports cars I’ve ever had the privilege to drive.

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